A Secret About a Secret
by Ms. Chaos
Summary: The man's identity was known. The man in that famous photograph was Captain Jack Harkness.


**Author Notes**:_ A short and hopefully sweet fic about Jack and his past. The t__itle of the fic is from a Diane Arbus quote._

_Thanks to Elaine and b-w-williams for beta'ing! :D_

_Please read and review._

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_August 14th, 1945._

_New York City. _

The sailor's uniform almost fit. Whoever wore it before was a slightly smaller fellow but that didn't seem to matter to Jack when he awoke from yet another death in the hospital morgue and needed clothes. His own shirt and pants which were soaked with his blood and had a knife tear around the stomach area, were tossed away somewhere. Another damn drunken brawl with an american paratrooper who seemed to remember Jack from a night in which he and Jack along with a marine they met at bar in Paris ended up in the same cot together after a wild game of charades. Who would've thought that a simple gesture with a few beers could have ended up with some of the best sex Jack had during the war?

Jack had merely rolled eyes at the upset paratrooper and made a cheeky comment, loud enough for everyone in the bar to hear that he recalled that the paratrooper was the only one sober that night and didn't seem to mind crossing into "No Man's Land." The paratrooper's response once Jack left the bar was a knife into Jack's belly.

As soon as he woke up in the hospital morgue, he knew what day it was. It was the reason why he was at the bar where the disgruntled paratrooper killed him. He was celebrating early the end of war. Hiroshima was bombed and Japan had surrendered, finally ending World War 2. The dark blue navy sailor uniform was the first piece of clothing he found. Though he wouldn't have any qualms of walking around the hospital stark naked but he knew it was a different time and people had a different way of thinking towards nudity.

He tugged at the sleeves as he walked down the hospital corridor and slapped on the hat as an afterthought. He noticed a change in the air. A sharp buzz of excitement. The people of New York had gotten the news about the end of the war. V-J Day was the reason why Jack came to New York in the first place. He wanted to be part of the celebration of the end even though he knew that the war was not the first nor the last on this planet. But for now, he just wanted to go out and celebrate with the one person he cared about. Eleanor. He smiled to himself at the thought of the pretty brunette nurse who worked at the hospital but was quickly startled out of his reverie when he suddenly collided with someone in the corridor.

"Jack!" the voice gasped. It was Ruth, another blonde nurse and best friend who worked with Eleanor.

"Oh my goodness, I thought you were dead! I heard you were stabbed. What are you doing wearing that? " she exclaimed, noticing the navy uniform.

Jack flashed a smile. "Nah, it was just a flesh wound. I'm fine. Couldn't find my clothes, so..." he shrugged.

Ruth was still in shock. "But Eleanor... she said..."

Jack's smile faltered. "What?"

"She was working the night shift last night." Ruth's eyes softened. "She said she saw the ambulance bring in your body this morning. She said she saw it herself."

Jack internally winced. "Where is she?"

"She went home, just left a few moments ago. I told her I'd cover for her."

Jack immediately turned and ran.

Jack had met Eleanor Cullen in Central Park, a few weeks before V-J Day. She was walking along with a group of friends on their way to the Doctor's Hospital in Manhattan where she worked as a nurse. Jack, as bold as always, walked up to the group of women and turned on the charm full blast. The girls were quickly smitten by him, giggling and blushing at Jack's attempts of getting to know the women but he had his eye on one girl in particular. The only one who seemed not to be going weak in the knees by his charm. Jack smirked to himself. Playing hard to get. He did love a challenge.

Days went by and Jack became a frequent visitor to the hospital where Eleanor worked, feigning a certain sickness or an injury determined to get her at least on one date with him. He could see that he was slowly wearing her down. He noticed a small quirk of a smile from her lips at his jokes or a slight blush in her cheeks whenever he brushed past her. Her friends teased her at the conquest she made from Jack. Her tough exterior was slowly melting as she and Jack would take long lunch breaks much to the chagrin of Eleanor's superiors, just talking and laughing together.

He felt comfortable around her and she around him. He wasn't sure if it was the nurse in Eleanor, or the simple comforting feeling and touch she brought to people who were in pain. It was something she couldn't switch off. It was her job. Calming people. And Jack admired that.

Thousands of people were all out in the streets of New York. Times Square in Manhattan looked like New Year's eve only minus the freezing cold and the ball dropping. It was one huge party in a sea of people.

The cheers of jubilation echoed throughout the city. People's faces and smiles all blurred together as Jack walked through the crowd. Everyone was excitedly happy. The war was over. The word "victory" ranged everywhere in the country with joy and patriotism in everyone's hearts. Traffic was at a stand still, bars and pubs gave away drinks on the house, and newspapers were selling like hot cakes.

Jack ignored the exuberant slaps on his back from the men. His eyes searched desperately for the familiar dark hair and figure of Eleanor. He pushed and gently shoved people away and occasionally stopped a woman who resembled Eleanor and would sometimes get a kiss in return. Confetti rained down him as he blinked them away from his eyes.

He stopped.

A flash of white in the corner of his eye. He turned sharply around. It was Eleanor in her nurse's uniform, her back towards Jack. Her tense body language reverberated from her, a stark contrast to the excitement around her. She was grieving from the loss of Jack but was desperately trying to keep it in.

He rushed over, walking swiftly towards Eleanor's back. She was completely unaware of who was coming up behind her. The noise of the city drowned out his voice when he called out to her.

The moment his fingers touched the white fabric of her uniform, time stopped. For a moment, there was no one else but Jack and Eleanor in that street in Times Square. The crowd and noise of New York in celebration faded away. There was only her. The warmth of her body on his hands, the smell of her perfume in the gentle breeze. To Jack nothing else existed but her at that moment.

He gently turned her around to face him, watching her brown eyes widen in shock at the sight of him. He didn't give her time to say anything as he brought his lips down to hers, kissing her firmly but gently. His right hand held onto her lower waist, his left cradled the back of her neck as he gently dipped her to the side. At that moment, his sole attention was the woman in his arms. He didn't even noticed the flash of light of a photographer's camera.

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_2009_

_Present Time._

Jack smiled fondly at the photograph of the now famous "Times Square Kiss" on the computer screen. The famous picture first caught his attention on the tv in Ianto's flat after spending a wonderful night there. Ianto was in the kitchen cooking up breakfast(it was his turn)and was barely paying any attention to the news anchorperson when the familiar photo caught his eye. He was quickly taken back by the news and quickly searched the internet on Ianto's computer.

Jack stared intently at the photo. The memory of that day still fresh in his mind. He could still remember the feel of Eleanor's lips on his, the softness of her hair around his fingers. The sound of her laugh.

After that kiss, they soon went over to Eleanor's apartment where they spoke and made love all day. He told Eleanor of his immortality, his secret which he had kept to himself since working for Torchwood. He explained of how he was unable to die and how the war that had just ended wasn't his first as they lay together in bed where Eleanor lay comfortably against Jack, her head resting on his chest. He felt her sigh quietly and confessed that she sensed that there was something different about him when they first met. His eyes, she explained had the look that he had seen too much. Not just in war but too much time. She went quiet for a moment before she suddenly whispered.

"I wish I could stay forever with you."

Jack held her closer to him, feeling the sadness weigh heavily on him as Eleanor's arms snaked around him, pulling him to her. Even then she knew that he wasn't going to stay.

Jack clicked on the internet article, scrolling the page up to read the heading again.

_"WW2 nurse in iconic Times Square kissing photo dies."_

Jack felt his heart flinch. Another love lost to time. But he was glad to learn that Eleanor lived to be 91 years old, married, had become a school teacher and had four sons, seven grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren. She was surrounded by her family when she passed. Jack was happy to read that. She lived a long and full life. Now she would be forever immortal in the photo along with Jack. Her wish had come true.

He scrolled further down the page. His eye caught the caption that was underneath the kissing picture.

_"Eleanor Cullen being kissed. The sailor's identity is still unknown."_

Jack chuckled. The sailor's identity was known. To a few people at least. The sailor had been alive and well for the past 65 years since the photograph was last taken, living and working in Cardiff, Wales, too busy to come forward and identity himself as the man in the photo instead he spent time defending the earth against alien threats from other planets and monitoring a rift through time and space. The sailor in the photograph was Captain Jack Harkness.

**The End.**

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_Edith Shain was the real name of the World War 2 nurse in the famous "Times Square Kiss" photo. She died from cancer on Sunday, June 20th at home in L.A.. Alfred Eisenstaedt was the photographer of that famous photo which was published in Life magazine the following week. The picture was taken on August 14th, 1945. _

_The sailor's identity is still unknown._


End file.
